Domesticated Wife of a Miner
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: I now wanted to write a more consensual romance for Katniss and Thom. It also gave me an opportunity to delve into District 12's marriage traditions in greater detail than I have before. I hope you enjoy this one!
1. Chapter 1: Sex for Luck

**Chapter 1: Sex for Luck**

The moon is still sinking in the sky when I stride into the Hob. I like to get as early a start as possible when I go hunting, so that I am one of the first traders at the black market when the vendors open up for the day. When I use the secret back entrance - nothing more than a space between two slabs of wood to wiggle through, the marketplace is deserted. Not even the miners are up yet, though they are probably just getting out of bed to prepare for another dangerous day's work underground. The day he died, Daddy got up and kissed Mother goodbye after she fixed his breakfast, unaware that morning would be his last. For the spouse of a miner, it is difficult to see the one you love go off to work each day, for you do not know whether they will be home for dinner.

I pull up a seat at Ripper's bare stool, situated in a darkened corner of the Hob. The cover of shadow is helpful to me, for Ripper is one of my best customers, paying for more audacious loads of game that I illegally bring in. I have been fortunate to avoid punishment, having hunted for almost seven years and only a couple months off from my 18th birthday. My hunting partner, Gale, wasn't so lucky; he was made an example of when he apparently poached a deer belonging to the Mayor of District 12. The charges were horseshit, of course, but that didn't change how he suffered under the lash until he bled to death; my mother's best efforts couldn't save him. I have struggled to speak to her since then.

I hear a rustle and turn quickly, hoping that it isn't a Peacekeeper. Most of the cadets in 12 actually deal in the contraband goods instead of actually doing their job, which would be to tear the flimsy structure apart and burn it to the ground, throw every offender in the stocks. Occasionally, a new recruit, fresh off the train, will bully some vendor, until he eventually becomes accustomed to the ways here: do your duty at the bare minimum, and meanwhile, catch while catch can; Cray will largely look the other way. Which means, unless the crime is particularly egregious, you should too.

But instead it is only a nerdy boy of 18. I smile affectionately, and for me that is rare. Though I have never been very good at making friends, Thom Borden and I have known each other since we were small children. We're in the same year in school, about to graduate later this spring. The Bordens are a particularly long line of miners, going back to the district's earliest days. More than one ancestor has held the title of Foreman - the highest achievement for a miner. And now, my friend is decked out in a miner's uniform, with a headlamp atop his head.

"Why are you up this early?" I admonish him, though it is half-hearted.

Thom smiles boyishly. "I couldn't wait any longer. Hardly slept a wink last night. First day on the job!"

I can't help it. I laugh. Thom is the only one I know who would show any modicum of enthusiasm about mining. It's a dreary existence, and if you're Seam like us, the only career option available. Unless you win the Hunger Games and become a Victor, but that's only happened twice here in over three-quarters of a century. Beyond that, you're a homemaker, as most wives and women are, though there are a smattering of female miners here and there. For me, I will be a hunter until I am caught and flogged within an inch of my life, or drop dead of exhaustion. I will never be a miner - I couldn't bear to go down into those depths, the depths that killed my father. Nor could I be the wife of one, as I have vowed that I will never marry, and especially not have children who would stand a good chance of becoming fatherless. And unless the odds fall out of my favor and I am Reaped this summer - my last year of entry - I probably won't win the Hunger Games. Even if I was Reaped, I probably wouldn't win.

These sober thoughts dampen my mood, and I gaze at Thom solemnly. "You might die today, you know," I whisper. "Especially since you're new." I still can't believe he reported for duty the day he turned 18, which was yesterday. We aren't even done with school yet, and his explanation that he would take night classes to graduate on time left me still feeling concerned. He could have at least waited till May to ensure he completed his education. Though unenthusiastic about school, I am too, mostly because Mother is making me.

Thom smiles. "I'll be fine. I'm going to graduate, survive my last Reaping, marry and eventually be promoted to Foreman." But his eyes betray his fear. His fear of dying before getting to do any of those things.

I just nod. "I'll root for you."

Thom appears to be undecided about something. Finally, he sits down beside me and takes my hand. "Katniss... we're friends, right?"

"Of course."

"Will you... see me off and wish me luck?"

I eye him with something between wariness and bemusement. I know what the phrase means. It is a kind of tradition for first-time miners to steal a kiss from their sweetheart or a lady friend before falling out for their first shift. I have seen it happen here in the Hob now and again, when miners finishing breakfast are rounded up by the Foreman. But Thom is my dear friend. He will need the strength to get through the day. I nod.

Thom's smile could light up the sun. "Great!" And then, before I can say anything, he tilts my face up in his hands, bends and kisses me right on the mouth. I stiffen, but only for a fraction of a moment, as my eyes droop shut. Thom tastes sweet, like warm hearths. A few moments later, we break the kiss with a small POP!

Momentarily speechless, I recover with a smirk, amused. "I thought the tradition is that I have to kiss you!"

Thom shrugs. "It's an open question whether you would. I didn't even think you'd say yes if I asked to kiss you." Thom knows well my opinions on marriage and romance.

His presumptuousness wounds me. And so, with no nonsense, I rise from my chair, taking him by the hand so as to pull him up with me. Draping my arms about Thom's shoulders I lean in and give him the most passionate kiss I can muster in return.

I am not very good at kissing, as I only just experienced my first one moments ago and out of the blue. But Thom and I soon fall into a rhythm, our mouths engaging with an easy give-and-take. Our lips quickly part for each other, and I soon feel our tongues in each other's mouths, battling for dominance.

I am so focused on kissing him, that I only just feel Thom's hands begin to wander lower. His calloused palms grope and squeeze the fleshy curves of my ass, first one cheek and then the other. I gasp into his mouth, getting a mouthful of tongue, and wriggle a little in his embrace.

"No... no..." I murmur, though I am startled to find the protest weak.

"Can't a poor virgin make love to a beautiful, wonderful girl?" Thom whispers into my lips.

I consider this, morbidly reminded that Thom could be dead by sunset. Well, when he puts it that way...

In answer, my hand snaps out to cup him between his legs. I can feel his hardened length between my fingers, and Thom chokes a little as he kisses my lips more insistently. Assertively, I raise my leg to his waist, hitching it about his torso so that the fabric of my blue Reaping dress rides high up my thigh. Thom lifts me off my feet with enthusiasm, hoisting me in the air and laying me back on the top of Ripper's stall. I drag him down with me, allowing him to clamber on top of me. I spread my knees wide so he can nestle between my legs.

Thom is already grinding against me, the motion nudging the skirt of my dress up over my hips. I feel him gently guiding my panties down to my ankles. Still kissing him with my mouth open wide, my hands claw and fist at his simple shirt, tugging it over his head where it is cast aside into the dirt. I move on to the buckle of his trousers, finally freeing him and clasping his stalk in my palm. Stroking it with care, guessing on what to do from the gossip I've heard other girls whisper in the school halls and over stolen liquor, I guide Thom into me.

The initial pain as he slides into me is unbearable, for this is my first time, too. I dig my fingernails into his butt, adjusting our hips so that they are in perfect alignment. As Thom and I continue to kiss, he begins to thrust in and out, slowly at first, then faster and faster. His pants are down at his knees, so that his bare ass - gripped in my palms - is exposed for anyone to see. My back scrapes against the wooden top of the stall, as our bodies undulate together in heat, and I pray no one walks in the door at this moment.

"Rrrrrrr... Hmmmmm... mmmmmmmm... Uhhhhhh... Ohhh... Huhhhh..." I moan and groan pathetically as Thom slams into me with an increasing tempo, as I buck my hips up to meet his. I never expected to need sex so badly, but once I have it... I thought I was an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. I feel a warmth building in my core, and it must feel like how a piece of coal is pressurized until it becomes oil. They say that it you heat coal long enough it becomes a diamond, but that's just an urban legend.

At last, with a quivering groan, I sigh, "Thom!" My walls clench around him and I release what I can no longer hold, my legs trembling through my orgasm. Thom gives another weak slam, two, before he too grunts and ejaculates into me.

We lie there in post-coital bliss for a moment; no one disturbs us. At last, I squirm, whining to be let up, and kissing Thom's lips, his face, his chest gently, he finally rises off of me. We dismount the stall and redress, oddly gazing at each other intensely, rather than turning away in shame. While I did partially go back on principles, in Thom's case, I am not sorry. If I had to make love with anyone, I am glad it was him, for he is one of the few men I can trust.

Thom captures my lips in one last kiss, and I hold it, accepting the gesture without complaint. "I love you, Katniss," my friend murmurs.

 _Surely he doesn't mean it_ , I wonder, as I watch him turn away and head for a stall, just as the first vendors and miners arrive to start the morning rush.


	2. Chapter 2: Marriage

**Chapter 2: Marriage**

I hold my little sister's hand as we approach the check-in queue for the Reaping. It's a pinprick of blood from our index fingers to get our DNA scanned. I feel grateful that this is the last time I will have to do this. As the flock of kids around us starts to congeal into lines two across (for efficient processing), I relinquish my hold on Prim's hand so she can run ahead and fall into step next to Rory Hawthorne, Gale's younger brother and her secret crush. I feel a familiar presence ease into place beside me, and I glance to my right to acknowledge Thom.

"One more day of standing in the hot sun, Katniss; nothing to it," he encourages me.

"I'm not scared," I tell him.

"Sure you're not," he indulges me. "I know you, Katniss." He heaves a sigh, and I can tell by this, he is letting me know just how scared he really is too. "All we need is just a little more luck. It hasn't failed us yet."

I understand what he means. District 12 places great esteem in luck and other superstitions. Aside from our traditions, it is all we can turn to in trying times, since religion is expressly forbidden in Panem. Like now, for instance, where up ahead in line, and even past the processing queue, I can see boys and girls in tight embraces.

There is a ritual in District 12 called The Reaping Kiss. A superstition that if you share a kiss with someone just before the Reaping, it will bring you luck and prevent you from being picked. I have never engaged in this custom myself, though Primrose once encouraged me to kiss Gale Hawthorne for protection from the glass Reaping ball. It was before my baby sister was eligible for the Games herself, and she feared for me. I only balked because I did not feel comfortable locking lips with my hunting partner. Besides, I remain ambivalent about the Reaping Kiss's efficacy, though I have no reason to believe it doesn't work.

Up ahead of us in line, I see Rory Hawthorne steal a Reaping Kiss from my baby sister, and she looks utterly ecstatic. Suddenly inspired, I turn to Thom.

"Kiss me," I demand, with no nonsense.

Thom gapes at me. "What?" But I just sling an arm over his neck and pull his face down to mine, mashing my lips against his in a steamy kiss. We break apart after a minute or two. "For luck," I gasp, as soon as I come up for air.

Thom's eyes twinkle. "I thought you didn't believe in that stuff."

"I don't," I frown, blushing at his perceptive teasing, and at myself for being so uncharacteristically bold. I try to tell myself it isn't a big deal; after all, Thom and I have done _far_ more than just kiss. "It's just that... you never want luck to run out... and - Mmmmm..." My voice is cut off, dies in my throat, as Thom swoops down and presses his lips to mine, returning my kiss in kind. I let out an appreciative moan, as my fingers unconsciously fist the fabric of his shirt, surprised but nevertheless... _pleased_.

We step out of the kiss softly, and I ruffle my blue skirts as I feel my face grow hot and pink. "That should do it," I say lamely, and I move forward in line as the kids ahead of us shuffle forward. Thom's hand slips into my own to stop me, and he turns me back. "Katniss."

"Yes?" I regard him quizzically.

Thom now turns red himself as he asks shyly. "Can I please kiss you again?"

I peer at him, amused, recalling how he had rejected the idea of asking for my permission the first time he kissed me. " _May_ I please kiss you again?" I correct his grammar. After a moment of consideration, I shrug. "Yes, you may. You may kiss me, I mean." I murmur.

Smiling, Thom takes me in his arms, and kisses me full on the mouth once more. I respond in perfect harmony, kissing him back just as passionately because I owe him that much.

"Ahem." The Peacekeeper on hand at the check-in table pointedly clears her throat, and Thom and I disengage from the kiss, our arms still around each other, more mortified than we have ever been. Though to his credit, Thom does his best to laugh it off.

"Third time's the charm," he offers up as explanation.

"Hmm," I smirk. "So it would seem."

* * *

The female name that Effie Trinket rings out is not mine, as I stand with the other 18-year-old girls, in the same blue Reaping dress that I made love in just a few months ago.

A moment more, and the unfortunate boy's name is called, and I find myself deflating in relief when it isn't Thom's. Two years ago, my nerves were inexplicably sent in a very different direction, when a Merchant boy I barely knew - Peeta Mellark, the Baker's son - was selected for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. He made it past the initial Bloodbath, but was killed soon after.

The tributes are still being whisked into the Justice Building, when 18-year-old boys begin to get down on one knee in front of the girls. It is a tradition in District 12 for young men to propose to their sweethearts at the conclusion of their last Reaping. No one's ever tried to ask me for my hand in marriage, though, and for that I am glad. In four years' time, when my baby sister, Primrose, ages out, I am sure there will be boys Seam and Merchant alike fighting to pop the question first. My sister is quite pretty, like our mother. Prettier than me, anyways.

Jostling among the throng to look for my mother and sister, I spy Thom pushing through the crowd towards me. I hug him automatically when he reaches me.

"We're free, Katniss! I'm so glad you're safe! Now we can get going with life!"

I smile and chuckle. "Thom, Thom, Thom - always so impatient!" I tease.

"I have a surprise for you," my friend tells me eagerly, and as I watch in astonishment, he pulls out an engagement ring. I put a hand to my mouth, speechless.

"Katniss Everdeen, I love you. And though I know how you feel about marriage, impatient though I may be, I will wait as long as it takes for you to say Yes. Will you marry me?"

After I take a moment to recover, I stare at Thom with a mixture of skepticism and bemusement. I smile at him curiously, almost. Softly, I find my fingers running through his long, black hair as I contemplate my answer, seriously considering his proposal. I would be going back on my word to never marry, forming an attachment that carries risk later. Though Thom has survived admirably his first few months on the job, mining will always be a hard life. Will he want children? Thom would at least want to talk about it, but he would probably understand if I declined. Gale Hawthorne may not have been so understanding, as I had heard rumors that he one day wanted to propose to me and our mothers even secretly hoped that we would get together. Thom and I would have our own house, assigned by the government, and we could survive enough off his miner's wages, along with my coin from hunting game. Even then, it might not be enough for us to support a child anyway, so perhaps the possibility is moot. Mother and Daddy had two children on a miner's wages, and we damn near starved to death, even when my father was still alive.

At last, I stare up into Thom's eyes. "Yes. I _will_ marry you." Laughing, we hug, and drawing away, we share a long, chaste kiss. I feel Thom slip the ring onto my finger. Still in his embrace, I turn my head to see Mother's mouth agape, Prim's eyes shining with excitement.

Much to their surprise, we have a wedding to plan.

* * *

I stare resolutely into the mirror as Mother does up my brown hair in the signature braid running down my back. The blue fabric of my Reaping dress ruffles against my skin as I slide it onto my body. Mother finally steps back to admire her handiwork. I don't normally let her do such nice things for me, but today of all days demanded that I put my pride aside.

"Now you look beautiful, too," Mother tells me softly.

"I wish I looked like you," Prim remarks from the settee. Though I take issue with the latter statement, I don't voice my disagreement.

It was a difficult decision, to decide what to get married in. And that is coming from a person who has mostly eschewed fashion and make-up. Mother offered me her white wedding dress, from her Merchant days. The one she stole from her father's house when she ran off to marry a coal miner, my Daddy. I would be content to just get married in my blue Reaping dress, the only nice article of clothing I own. Given that there are two parts to a District 12 wedding ceremony, I decided to split the difference.

All ready, Mother and Prim and I leave the house and trek across the Seam and into Town, making our way to the Justice Building. The first part of my wedding to Thom will be held there, during which we will sign our marriage license papers in front of the Chief Clerk and witnesses. For the legal stage of any new marriage, the couple usually dresses in the nicest clothes they have, or in the case of Seam, buy an outfit for the occasion, if you can afford one.

The Chief Clerk is holed up in a little office in the rear of the Justice Building. When my family and I enter, I see Thom in a suit in front of the Chief Clerk's desk, flanked by his parents and his three younger brothers. I smile shyly as I take the hand my fiance extends to me.

"Sorry I'm late." I actually giggle a little, betraying my nerves.

Thom gazes at me with love. "You look beautiful." I flush at the praise, and Thom's eyes darken in response. I sense that he would like nothing more than to take this dress right off me, with his teeth, once we are alone and out of mixed company.

The Chief Clerk clears his throat. "If the couple wishing to be married will please step forward." Thom and I approach the desk. "Who gives away this woman?"

"Her mother and sister do," Mother's soft voice trembles. She'll probably burst into tears before the ceremony is over.

"And who gives away this man?"

"His father, mother and brothers do," Mr. Borden answers.

The Chief Clerk proceeds. "Thom Borden, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Thom proclaims strongly and with pride.

"Sign here, please." Thom affixes his name to the marriage license. The Chief Clerk now turns to me. "Katniss Everdeen, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

In that moment, any doubts I had left melt away as I declare, "I do."

"Sign here, please." And I too sign my name to the marriage license. The Chief Clerk takes out another official piece of paper, signing it and stamping the District 12 seal upon it. "You will be assigned to number 21, Augery Lane. Witnesses for the couple, step forward and sign the license on the lines indicated." Primrose, Mother and the Bordens all obey one by one. "I now pronounce this couple man and wife." The Chief Clerk defers to Thom. "You may kiss your bride, sir."

I smile gently at my... husband as he takes me in his arms and kisses me full on the lips, even sweeping me into a playful dip as Primrose dutifully applauds.

Upon exiting the Justice Building, Thom wants to run all the way to our new, government-assigned house, but I hold him back, unable to do anything more than a trot in Mother's heels. When the wedding party at last reaches #21, Augery Lane (which is just a block or two away from the Hob), I see a crowd of friends - Greasy Sae, Ripper, the Hawthornes, Darius (a friendly Peacekeeper) - erupt into cheers. I flush with embarrassment at the attention. The rowdy hoots and hollers quickly die down after a moment when Darius fires his gun into the sky, for silence, whereupon the redhead comically organizes a makeshift chorus. The crowd quickly breaks into the traditional District 12 wedding song:

 _"May your love burn as brightly as the coal... May it press you close together till the diamonds glow... On this, your wedding day, make now a happy hearth... for sweet love and faithfulness is the goal..."_

Per custom, Thom sweeps me off my feet, ignoring my protesting squeal, as he carries me across our threshold. The rest of the guests and witnesses file into the house behind us and begin setting up for the second part of the ceremony, while Mother and Prim hustle me upstairs to change into Mother's wedding dress.

The final part of a District 12 marriage is unofficial, but no less traditional and important. After entering their house for the first time, the bride and groom light a fire in their hearth, toast a bit of bread and share it. No one in Twelve feels truly married until after their Toasting.

Finally changed into my white bridal gown, Mother and Primrose attend to me, holding up my train as I glide down the stairs. Thom is bent over the hearth with the poker, working up the best possible flame. Once he gets a strong enough fire going, he hands the glowing metal rod off to Darius.

"Quick, Darius, the poker!" The Peacekeeper plunges the tip into a bucket of ice water, so that steam sizzles out.

I float over towards my husband and take his hand with a grin. The two of us then Toast a piece of bread each on the spit, turning it over to properly char both ends. Removing the bread with care, Thom and I feed each other a piece, chewing slowly as we contemplate this symbol of our new life together. The swallow seems to come with finality.

Sliding a hand about my waist, Thom pulls me flush against him. I press my hands into his chest, gazing up into his eyes solemnly, the firelight dancing in my grey orbs. Tilting my head, I permit my husband to dip his head and kiss me. I think I surprise us both when I deepen the kiss, cradling Thom's face in my hands as I yank him closer with a shuddering groan. Thom tightens his arms about me as we embrace and passionately kiss, his hand saucily slipping underneath the folds of my dress to massage my buttocks. My kissed mouth turns upwards in amusement against his, as our friends and loved ones clap, rowdily cheer and wolf-whistle.

I am now a married woman. A miner's wife. Mrs. Thom Borden.

* * *

I am roused from a deep sleep that night at the feeling of warm, calloused hands touching, squeezing and fondling my breasts through my nightgown. Soft lips tickle my face, and I stir with a groan.

"Hmmmm... Thom..."

In answer, digits turn my cheek gently, and my husband's mouth captures mine in a searing kiss.

I feel my breasts begin to swell in response to Thom's touch, the perky and pink nipples pebbling and straining against my top. I roll over so that Thom and I are touching, chest-to-chest, and attempt to mount him. But my husband has other ideas. Palms still cupping my breasts, I feel them push me back, pressing me into the bedclothes. Then a weight settles on my body as my lover moves to straddle me. He sits astride my waist, his pelvis rocking into my core. It was bound to happen some time tonight - our first as man and wife - and I am suddenly wide awake, thirsty and excited about making love. I do not mind being woken up to my husband fondling me.

My eyes flutter shut, rolling into the back of my head as I let my head fall against the pillow with a sigh. I open my knees, spreading my legs wide so that Thom can crawl between them. He is still groping my breasts, as our mouths battle for dominance in a kiss that is becoming more and more passionate by the minute. Thom licks his way along, and then into, my mouth as I part my lips wide, inviting him in to twine his tongue about my own. All the while, his nimble fingers delicately work free the straps of my nightie, so that the top half falls free to expose my aching breasts to the moonlight. With my own fingers having nothing to do, I boldly cup my husband between his legs and stroke along his length, readying him for me. I can feel how hard he is already as I undo the ties of his pajamas and throw them down. I encircle my legs about Thom's middle, digging my heels and ankles into his buttocks.

Thom's lips wrench free of mine and he began to plant open-mouth kisses down my jaw and towards my collarbone. I arch into him, guiding his length towards me so that its tip can touch, feel my wetness.

"Th... Thom..." I moan.

My husband's magical tongue is now lolling out, lathering the mound of my left breast. Twisting his tongue about the rosy bud, he begins to suckle. Spasms overtake my body, and I cry out, a pleasant sound that is quickly muffled by Thom's free hand clapping itself over my flushed and very kissed lips. With the other, he is still kneading my right breast, giving the soft flesh a carnal tweak. "Mmmmmmhmmmmmmm..." I groan, my eyelids becoming hooded again.

And then, I feel an engorged, bloated thing come to rest inside me. Thom slams himself into what makes me a woman, and I let out a deadened scream. A scream of ecstasy.

We rock back and forth, relearning what we each like together. For my part, I feel like I will melt. I will do anything my spouse desires of me if he just keeps touching me just like that... worshipping my breasts with his hands and his mouth...

"Hmmmm... Mmmmm... Uhhhhh... Huhhhhhhh! Ruhhhh... Rrrrr... Thommmmmmm..." My groans become louder and more pathetic as he undulates above me, slapping the sweaty flesh of his hips against mine with a delicious smacking sound. The hand hovering over my right breast retracts itself, and I let out a whine, at least until it snakes around to find the small of my back. Deftly, Thom lifts my hips off of the mattress. I arch, moving to help him, and when he next pushes into me, I feel the nerve endings alight more soothingly than I ever have before. The wave is cresting, higher and higher, and I buck against my husband with abandon. The bed creaks and sways beneath us. "Ohhhh... Ohhhhh... Oh!" Thom's hand clamps down on my mouth again, and I breathe deeply through my nose as the dam breaks.

"Mmmmmm... MMMMMHMMMMMMMM!" I let loose a vicious squeal into Thom's hand as I cum, my legs tightening around his middle and my walls clenching around his member. The pulsing juices that I ride induce enough pressure to milk my husband, and I feel his seed ejaculate into me in rough spurts. Thom replaces his hand with his mouth and our tongues quickly find each other in the kiss. I purr in contentment.

"I love you!" I whisper against his insistent mouth, even as our bodies break apart and he rolls off of me. Our marriage consummated, we fall into a blissful slumber.


	3. Chapter 3: Pregnant Housewife

**Chapter 3: Pregnant Housewife**

I periodically glance at the clock as I tend to the pot of soup boiling over the stove. I crafted it out of the rabbit I caught this morning after seeing my husband Thom off to work, adding a few spices and herbs I know from Mother's Healing stock for flavor.

In the three years that Thom and I have been married, my husband has gone on a meteoric rise through the miner ranks. He graduated from the Digging Crew by the end of our first year of marriage, rising to Team Captain just after our inaugural wedding anniversary. And a few months ago, Thom fulfilled his dearest wish (other than marrying me) when he was promoted to Foreman, the sixth and youngest Borden to do so, and the youngest Foreman ever at the age of 21. I have told him over and over again how proud I am of him, and I can breathe a little easier when I fix his breakfast and kiss him goodbye every morning. Thom has his own office above-ground, and he only ever has to go down in the lifts when an inspection has to be made.

I hear the key turning in the lock of our front door, and I turn from the stove happily just in time to see my husband lunge through the door, sweep me into his embrace and kiss me good evening rather indecently, his tongue quickly parting my lips and slipping down my throat. I close my eyes and return the kiss with abandon, as Thom bends me back over the stove, draping my arms about his shoulders as I kiss him back. "Hmmmm..."

Thom and I are so caught up in kissing in each other, that we don't notice the dish rag I've been holding fall limply out of my hand onto the stove plate, where it quickly and accidentally catches fire. Thom breaks the kiss abruptly, ignoring my whine of protest as I reach for him.

"Whoops! That could have been a nasty blaze." He stamps the fire out with a wet cloth, and spins me in his arms away from the stove. The moment makes me laugh. Reaching up, I tug Thom back in for another kiss.

"Welcome home. Supper's almost ready, my love."

Thom pecks my lips chastely one last time. Nestled between us is my swelling stomach. The baby wasn't planned, and I only agreed to bear my husband's child because he was so excited to find out I was expecting, carrying his baby. I could not find it within me to deny him, though I have more than once experienced nightmares of our unborn baby being Reaped for the Hunger Games. Or growing up only to die in a mine explosion. Thom holds me through it all and tells me we will be OK. We have each other. He tickles my pregnant belly now, plants a kiss to my stomach.

"And how did little Borden behave?"

I chuckle. "She keeps kicking."

" _She_?" Thom frowns. "What makes you think it's a girl?"

"My motherly intuition," I crack in a deadpan. Thom laughs uproariously and kisses me once gently. "Your wife comes from a long line of Everdeen women."

"Well, your husband comes from a long line of Borden men. We have a future Foreman in there, make no mistake about it!"

I laugh and kiss Thom deeply. "Hmm," I purr, demurring. "We'll see."

I sashay past him and bend over to check on the stove. I hear something akin to a growl behind me, and at first I think it's my rumbling stomach... at least until I feel a hardness press into the flesh of my shapely ass.

I stand up straight, but Thom now has me pinned between himself and the counter. He grinds his stiff length into my buttocks and whispers sultrily in my ear, "You look so amazingly sexy carrying our child."

I whimper, as I feel Thom's talented hands hike up the skirts of my blue Reaping dress, settling them over my hips - those hips that have become more curved as I progress through my pregnancy. The white lace of my panties is revealed, which my husband quickly pushes down so that the fabric pools at my feet, revealing my bare buttocks to him.

"Thom... don't... don't stop..." I mewl, as I hear a belt buckle clang, a zipper unzip. Thom's calloused palm encircles me and I shiver as I feel nearly his whole hand sink into my femininity, already slick with arousal. His fingers grope until he finds the nub and gives it a firm tweak. I nearly topple to the floor, and I thrust my pelvis out, humping into him and not caring that I am brushing up against the countertop.

"Oh God... Oh, _fuck_... Thom, please..." My voice is a raspy croak.

I feel Thom's free hand dance along my skin, caressing the curve of my rear end, brushing along my ribcage, until his palm cups my swelling breast. I can see my nipples through my bodice, pebbling in excitement, and they are practically lit afire as Thom gives my boob a loving squeeze. I arch into his touch, groaning incessantly. "Mmmm... Hmmmmm..." Turning his face to mine, I push my lips against his, prying them apart quickly so that my tongue can swim inside and dance along the roof of his mouth.

And then, I feel the tip of Thom's member, and then all of his length, slam in between the puckered lips of my butt cheeks.

Startled, I wrench out of the kiss and scream, but Thom's lips soon spring back and conquer my own once more. I close my eyes and wounding my arm about his neck, I deepen the kiss as my husband takes me in the ass, slamming his penis into the tight space over and over again. I whine with aroused pleasure, taken aback by his passion, my fingers weaving into the locks of his hair and tightening around his skull. I feel his growl vibrate into my mouth and he bites down on my bottom lip, eliciting from me a whine.

Another slam into my buttocks. Thom strokes my vagina and its flowery bud and I keen into him.

"Mmmmm..." I wrench my lips free, breaking the kiss. "Thom!" I cry out in ecstasy. "Thhmmmmmmm..." His mouth cuts me off. He kneads my breast expertly, and I hump against him faster, pushing my breasts into his palm. "Mmmm... yes, keep touching me, please. Just... just like that..." I whisper along his plundering tongue. He bashes into me yet again, and my cries grow louder: "Thom, fuck me! Fuck me, please!" I _adore_ how my husband fucks me.

Tremors have taken over my body; I can feel myself shaking as Thom thrusts into my rear end more and more desperately. His pounding is getting weaker; he can't last much longer. _I_ can't last much longer. Neither of us can last much longer...

My frame seizes, my butt cheeks clamping down on Thom's penis mid-slam and trapping him there for milking.

"MMMMMMMM!" I cry out into our kiss, falling limp in Thom's strong embrace. My vaginal walls clenching, I cum utterly apart against his hand, which considerately continues to stroke me during my orgasm. There is a pulsing at my back as I milk my husband of all his juices, the liquid gold sputtering into my arse. The caressing of my breast slows as Thom finishes feeling me up, and I feel him pull out, releasing me.

I can finally turn around to stare at my husband, rouged, bruised and thoroughly kissed mouth hanging agape. Behind us, unnoticed, the timer dings.

"Din..." My throat feels dry. "Dinner's ready." Though after having sex the way we just did, neither one of us feels very hungry.


End file.
